As for history, maybe you have heard of "*** love"?

I am an outlier because I like history very much, and I don’t just like it literally.

When I was choosing a major in the college entrance examination, the students around me were looking at grammar, management, and computers. However, amidst the surprise and paradoxical understanding of the people around me, I announced that I wanted to study archeology and take a step back in history. remarks.

The reason is very simple, that is, I like history for no reason. Of course, in the end, amid the opposition and enlightenment from my parents, teachers, and friends, I gave up that idea, but I never gave up my love for history.

Regarding my love for history, the most direct reflection is the road I have traveled for historical sites. There are famous places such as the Forbidden City, Yin Ruins, and Zhongshan, but there are also many that require hardships and dangers and are rarely visited by people. of remote places.

It was a forty-degree weather, and there were only two people in the Second Tomb of the Southern Tang Dynasty. With level 10 claustrophobia, my legs were shaking in the tomb, but I walked forward resolutely. I didn’t remember those things at all afterwards. The fear and hardship, I only joked in the circle of friends, it was probably like the feeling of a daughter-in-law meeting her parents-in-law.

I sat on the intercity bus that stopped by the highway, and then walked along the narrow path to the tomb of King Lanling, which was being renovated. I begged the workers at the door to let me in and take a look. I stood in a mess. There is a sense of satisfaction that brings tears to my eyes.

There is no traffic at the Yecheng ruins. I was trapped in the wilderness and almost couldn't come back. I had more than a dozen mosquito bites on my arms and legs, but I told my friends that this is where I am. Firmness is always the first choice when traveling.

Walking towards the suburbs, I searched all the way to Lingyan Mountain. Among the people who came to worship the Buddha in twos and threes, I stood alone looking for traces. Facing the green mountains, I still kept sighing.

…

These are memories between me and history that are difficult for ordinary people to have, but every time I share them with my friends, I always get similar responses: < /p>

Why?

What’s there to see?

Can we stop visiting graves and ruins?

This makes me sometimes feel like, am I a little weird? But I will still rush to the next tomb and ruins they talk about regardless of wind, frost, rain and snow. Why? It seems that I find that these places are nothingness in their eyes, but there are many things in my eyes.

In the second tomb of the Southern Tang Dynasty, where no one visited, walking from Qinling to the smaller Shunling, I heard a helpless sigh in the darkness, and then the darkness in front of me turned into a simple car. The carriage went all the way north.

In the empty tomb of King Lanling, I saw a lonely figure sitting there. His stunning appearance was not visible, and I could only see a blood-stained and ferocious mask beside him.

At the lost ruins of Yecheng, I met a ten-year-old child. He ran towards the Golden Phoenix Platform with a smile, followed far behind by the palace servants who could not catch up. That was the man named Feng. The clearest time in the little prince's life.

On the top of Lingyan Mountain, where only the sound of bells and bells can be heard, there is the old palace of Guanwa. I stirred the water in the moon pool, and the undissolved ripples reflected the face of a sunken fish. Her hand He caressed his heart and frowned, his eyes filled with the sadness of being a chess piece.

…

This kind of seeing a little more than others will always deepen my paranoia about history itself. In addition to what my heart wants, I also There is no deeper emotion hidden behind it.

But a few days ago, during a routine museum exhibition, I seemed to suddenly grasp the answer.

After reading the picture of Han Xizai’s Night Banquet, I wrote this paragraph:

Yes, in this world, people will die, things will change, and everything will change. It’s beyond recognition, but despite all the floating things, the thick world between my fingers turns page by page, and your name makes my heart heat up.

If I could use another word to describe this feeling, I would say:

Perhaps, have you heard of "*** love"?

I once read an article written by a literary master, which mentioned the ultimate state of liking history: making divine connections with the ancients. That kind of state is beyond the reach of a small person like me. Just a little bit of love.

***Love comes from a kind of inaccessibility. I am eager to know you better, I am eager to tell you that I admire you, and I am even more eager to witness your magnificent life with my own eyes, but black and white words will ultimately stop these desires in sight. You gave birth to me before I was born, that’s probably the case!

So, I began to search non-stop, walking the mountains you walked, crossing the water you crossed, looking at the moon you looked at... imagining your situation at that time, and experiencing you. My state of mind at that time, every time we reunited across time and space, it was like a joyful reunion for me after a long absence.

In the end, maybe the mountains and rivers you have walked through are not important, the human world you have seen is not important, and even the black and white written in history are not important, but the only important thing is what you can see after you put them aside. Those flesh-and-blood people and things are written in history, or they are outside history.

With my thoughts at this point, I thought, I am willing to be this outlier, walk through more tombs and ruins, and continue to be in love with the history I like.

Just like this moment, looking at the "Han Xizai Night Banquet" I took, I excitedly say to you: Do you know, our queen really appreciated this painting very seriously back then!